We didn't go very far. In probably a quarter of an hour, the truck turned off the main thoroughfare and headed down a narrower street, past an imposing brick building with a sign in front that said "Arlington Hall." I felt a jolt of hope, thinking that perhaps we were going to be stationed here, in some sort of college or training institution. Of all the possibilities open to us, this would have been my choice. I hadn't enjoyed teaching school for the two years I had been in practice but this wouldn't be bad! I could get used to this.
But we didn't stop there either. Down we went, the street getting narrower and dustier, down into a forest of pines at the bottom of a shallow hill. And there, in front of a high security fence, guarded by a soldier in full regalia, the truck stopped and our rumpled and exhausted group scrambled out. My thoughts were not of the most logical - all I could think of was prison. We were going to be incarcerated. What in God's name had we done?
The sergeant presented our papers, and we were waved into the inner sanctum of an army base, spread out before our amazed eyes, neat and tidy.
From our vantage point, it looked like a model of an army base, with barracks arrayed on each side of the street, with a church and library down at the end. The buildings were of wood, unpainted, but looking quite new. There were little lawns of green grass out in the front, and numbers of soldiers going to and fro from the various buildings, all in summer fatigues and all seemingly in a hurry.
The sergeant ushered us into a small building off to one side of the street and we were once more lined up in a row. A stern-looking captain sat behind a desk and wasted no time on us. "You are in the 2nd Signal Service Battalion," he began. "It is a unit of the Signals Intelligence Service, and you are in the United States Army codebreaking division. It is so secret that outside the office of the Chief Signal Officer, it does not exist."
He paused a moment to let this sink in. Then, speaking slowly and clearly, he continued. "The work you will be doing is of the most vital importance to the war effort. You were hand-picked for this assignment. You are the best of the best."
We listened open-mouthed while he instructed us to raise our right hands and swear ourselves to eternal secrecy. The penalty for discussing the work ourside of approved channels could be death, as it was considered an act of treason during a time of war. The watchword was "Don't Talk." We were informed that no one was to know of our work. Anyone caught discussing it would be treated as a spy and shot.
We saluted, turned and walked out the door into the sunshine and soft summer breezes. We were so astonished that we were almost in a state of shock. Between relief that we had escaped a fate worse than death, and surprise that we had been picked for this important work, we were almost catatonic. We picked up our duffel bags and headed for the barracks.